


The Third Night

by InquisiAzrael



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Amusing, Comatose, Gen, Pre-Relationship, semi-angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 14:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7804657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InquisiAzrael/pseuds/InquisiAzrael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The final night before the fabled Herald rejoins the world of the living. After the recent attempts on her life, Cassandra has become increasingly vigilant, almost skewering a hapless Solas when he decides to pay a late night visit and study the Mark one final time. Now they both debate who the Dalish elf could be and what will come in the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Third Night

“Where did she come from?”

“A Dalish clan most likely.”

“Well, yes, but who is she?”

“Probably the First of her home clan.”

“Strangely, this isn’t helping Solas.”

“We will find out in due time Cassandra. When she wakes.”

“You had better not be toying with me. We need answers.”

“Indeed.”

“And I can have you executed if you do not show me something that affirms your intent to help, and that you are not simply deceiving us. It wouldn’t be the first time an apostate attempted to acquire a power beyond them.”

“As you have told me time and before. You surprise me again and again with your brutal honesty, Seeker.”

Solas watched Cassandra hunch deeper in her seat, squinting distastefully. It was odd to see the stern woman in such an ungraceful position, the chair backwards with her arms perched on the back, her chin resting on the crossed limbs. It was incredibly late, well past when most retire to bed, even past favored tavern hours, so it was easy to understand the Seeker’s lax.

The two were settled in the incapacitated Dalish’s temporary quarters, the elf seated beside the bed while Cassandra slouched nearby. Solas had continued to check up on the mage periodically, relieving Adan each time he entered her sleeping room. Oddly enough, the stubborn healer was almost constantly in attendance. Administering elfroot extract as needed, changing the bandages on her forearms, and simply ensuring her comfort. It surprised Solas to see the sudden change in the man. Even now there was a fresh pale of heated water and cloth for the elf.

Solas would like to take a small amount of credit for the healer’s turn of heart, but he knew better than to presume. After all, he had merely shed some light on the matter, in a manner of speaking. Its just how he viewed things, and how little others saw. Experience with being seen as ‘lesser’ to most helped him understand the unappreciated. But it was purely up to Adan what he decided to believe, Solas had simply ‘advised’ the obstinate man.

Cassandra had fallen silently. His cue to not disappoint. Solas exposed the Dalish’s palm by carefully unwinding part of her dressings. He lidded his eyes and began to press his magic gently into the slumbering elf’s palm, causing her to stir subtly. That was a good sign, responding to outward stimuli. At least now he knew his efforts to relax her had paid off. Rather than battling through a numb, nightmare-filled state of mind, she had finally sunk back into her body.

He held her limb steadily, feeling along the lines in her hand, sending his magic deeper into its scar, experimenting with its boundaries. His brow furrowed as his own magic began to pull at the Mark’s ever so carefully, meticulously exploring its fastenings and…

“What are you doing?” He cringed as the sensitive connection was lost. Cassandra continued to pepper him with questions it seemed, breaking his concentration. 

He breathed prudently through his nose, straightening in his chair as his magic dissipated, stamped out as he covered the woman’s palm. He couldn’t decide whether the Seeker truly desired to question his intentions, or if she was merely bored.

“Lady Cassandra.” Her peered back at her pointedly, eyeing the gruff woman, noting her crooked jaw. The dull look plastered on her slumped features almost confirmed is inference. “I am attempting to discover the origin of Azrael’s Mark, and to what extent its power entails, as you requested of me. However, I cannot do that if you continue to interrogate me. Have I not proven my allegiance?”

She vocalized one of her characteristic grunts, although with less enthusiasm than usual. “I am still debating your loyalty, apostate.” She never tired of reminding him of his place, yet he was surprised to see her brows knit regretfully.

“Forgive me, Solas.” She sighed, lifting her chin from its folded repose. “I know you have not disappointed…yet, but after what transpired earlier…” She trailed off, for he already knew what had occurred. It was why they were both seated within Azrael’s sleeping room.

Pulled from the Fade due to his unrelenting curiosity, Solas had decided to continue his analysis of the prone elf and her marked hand, still perturbed about its trappings. It was the third night since her encounter with the Breach and Adan ensured that she would awaken on the morn, the next evening at the latest. So he had crept from his own quarters to hers, impassive to the late hour.

He really needed to remember that his own variable time schedule was significantly ‘unorthodox’ compared with more civilized settings, to put it lightly. Since he was accustomed to living alone in isolated environments, he never put much thought into whenever he decided to do something, always doing it on the whim. Without the restraints of society, he was able to do as he pleased whenever he wished to.

So, unconcerned, he had idly ventured to her quarters as if it were an evening stroll through the woods, his disregard to common practices causing him to accidentally bump into a suspicious Seeker along the way.

Or rather, her sword.

She had been hidden within the shadows near Azrael’s cabin, greeting Solas with a blade tip beneath his chin. Understandably cautious due to the recent break-ins in the Chantry, but still a brief heart attack for the mage.

She had eventually relinquished his throat when he explained his late-night wanderings and why it had slipped his mind that an elven mage slinking around late at night might be cause for confrontation. He had also explained that he had simply forgotten how regular people lived day to day and promised to remember in the future. But even then she insisted on accompanying him inside.

“It was fortunate that the assassins assumed Azrael was sequestered within the Chantry, rather than this humble abode.” Solas commented, attempting to clear the air.

“I would hardly call them assassins, Solas.” Cassandra finally lifted her lilting head, dark-rimmed eyes bemused. “Several locals armed with simple daggers are hardly a statement.”

“The intentions of the perpetrators can carry more weight than their success, Lady Seeker. She is a Dalish mage after all. Whispers of her being this Herald are bound to sit wrong with certain individuals.” He let the term sit awhile, casting a knowledgeable glance at the warrior. “Simply being an elf already makes her a victim to less accepting characters.” He turned back to the Dalish, placing her hand beside her still form, gazing intensely at her quiet form while he continued.

“Racial slurs, stereotypical presumptions, even tiny threats whispered behind backs, they can all add up. Each one is aimed at a different victim, but in the long run…” Solas dipped the cloth into the pail of warm water, wringing it out and gingerly placing it on the Dalish’s forehead. Adan had been adamant about it before leaving. “Picture a Dalish elf, a mage as well, being described as a Maker-sent savior. A religion this woman most likely does not even follow. How would you, a human as well as Chantry enforcer, react? In light of these events, without witnessing them for yourself?”

Solas now scrutinized Cassandra, his eyes holding a hard glint. She was sitting silently, her own eyes intense, riveted on Azrael. He looked back at the Dalish’s fair features, his pale eyes tracing those vallaslin, their silver hue shimmering under the damp cloth and flickering candlelight.

He reached out, grasping the cooling fabric, wiping it along her hairline. His finger warily trailed one of the lines, discreetly concealed from Cassandra behind the cloth as he removed it. He knew what those meant.

Aware that he was lingering, he adeptly soaked the cloth, wrung it out, and then returned it to its place on her brow.

“Persecution, abuse of power, prejudice.” The elf’s voice became heated, laced with distaste, like the words held a bitter tang. “We face these hindrances everyday, and it never seems to end.”

“We, Solas?”

The elf looked back at her, catching himself, his passivity returning. “Elves, Lady Cassandra.” He averted his gaze briefly. “Forgive my ramblings. I am….distressed. While I have no connection with this woman, I cannot help but feel pity for the trials to come for her. When she wakes, Azrael will be faced with an entirely new form of oppression, as well as uncomfortable praise that opposes her beliefs. That is, if she is like her fellow Dalish.”

“You know her name?”

Solas looked back at the Seeker, thrown off by her quiet tone. It wasn’t an accusation, just a simple inquiry. Now that he thought about it, she could detain him easily since he had admitted to having no acquaintance with the Dalish but somehow knew her name.

“I do. Is that going to be used against me?”

Cassandra scowled, but Solas felt a twinge of guilt as he watched the stout woman shrink a little. Perhaps she was not as austere as she appeared. He softened his own voice.

“Did you not ask her, yourself?”

“I was her interrogator. Formalities are not very common between jailer and prisoner.” She sank into her arms again. “And I didn’t necessarily have an opportunity either.” Her disheartened gaze peered up at him, sharpening skeptically. “How do you know her name?”

“While you and Varric were having one of your…altercations.” He chose the word carefully, knowing the relationship between the dwarf and the warrior was delicate. “We made introductions while I was treating the wounds she received from her restrai-” He stopped himself as he saw Cassandra sink completely into her arms. Her expression was hidden from view, but he could tell she was irritated. The groan partly gave it away as well.

“Like you said Lady Cassandra, you were her interrogator. Others may have questioned your motives if you had treated her.”

“Just because she was the prime suspect doesn’t mean I should let her bleed out.”

“The wounds were minor, Seeker.”

She lifted her head slightly, dark eyes glaring past him. “How are they now?”

Solas gingerly lifted Azrael’s arm. Delicately, he unwrapped the pristine bandages, unveiling soft pink scabs where there was once garish lacerations. He ran a finger over the sensitive flesh, gauging their health.

“Adan has been exceptional with his healing. There won’t be any form of scarring. In fact, these will be able to come off in a matter of days.”

“Why not now? They look well enough.”

“Due to there location, the wounds can easily reopen. Better to keep them clean if that occurs.”

Cassandra dully nodded her assent.

“Don’t be to hard on yourself. This is not the worst danger she will have to face come tomorrow. As I stated earlier, she will be victim to far more. Hopefully, she will not face fate alone.”

He heard the Seeker rise and approach the bedside. “We won’t let that happen.” She placed a hand on her broadsword, a knowing glimmer in her eyes.

Solas leered quizzically at her. “You have something in mind?”

“I believe I do. And you are welcome to it if you wish.”

He peered down at Azrael once more, listening to her hushed breathing. His eyes lingered on her marked hand before rising to meet Cassandra’s again. Whatever was in the Seeker’s mind, it wouldn’t stay there for long.

“Alright, Lady Seeker. Amuse me.”

**Author's Note:**

> This one was so fun to write. It just popped in my head one night when I was brainstorming. Writing from an existing character's point of view can be so pleasing and nerve-wracking. Since, they do not belong to me (belong to Bioware), I have to stick to their personality and speech patterns. While it's intimidating, it is rewarding and fascinating when you figure it out.  
> I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed creating this one! ^^  
> check out my tumblr for more - inquisiazrael.tumblr.com


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